The West Side of Hogwarts to the Dungeons Down Below
by RedKitsune2016
Summary: Before Harry Potter's ninth birthday, following the first-years at Hogwarts in 1989. Euan Roddenberry, a muggle-raised boy, discovers an ancient magic that goes beyond wands and spells typically taught at Hogwarts. Multi-perspective. OC. No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for checking out this story, which is rated M for explicit language, violence, abuse, and suggestive sexual situations.**

 **This story is dedicated to the children at Hogwarts in the 1990s, particularly those who wanted to get a proper education, but got royally fucked over because of all of the shit Harry Potter and his friends kept getting themselves into.**

I don't own the Harry Potter franchise... of course it belongs to Rowling.

Summary: One wizard's mistake leads to changes over a decade later in inter-house dynamics at Hogwarts. Starting in 1989, prior to Harry Potter's introduction to the wizarding world.

* * *

 **The West Side of Hogwarts to the Dungeons Down Below**

 **Chapter 1 – Sabene**

 **March 1989**

A pair of bare feet dangled inches above the floorboards in the Leaky Cauldron. _No shoes, no service_ didn't apply in wizarding establishments.

Sabene—the eleven-year-old girl—had been wandering the pub long enough for the moon to pass through the sky. Someone had yet to kick her to the curb. Considering that she was still here, it seemed that there was an unspoken open door policy at the Leaky Cauldron. If she continued to stay quiet and out of the way, perhaps everyone would forget she was sitting in this chipped chair with uneven legs. The distracted wait staff ignored the mostly empty glass of water in front of her, understandably, as she wasn't a paying customer.

She had no money, not even a knut. This was the reason why she was clutching her stomach as it writhed painfully beneath her palm.

She only had the clothes on her back and a necklace the eldest witch, and leader of her community, had given her before banishing her to London.

Sabene had been successfully distracting herself from the pain in her stomach by watching patrons pass by. She kept her focus on the various wizards and witches that passed through the pub, trying to absorb as much information as she could about this unfamiliar place.

Magical Britain. It was exceptionally unfamiliar to her, then again, so was most civilized society.

A loud growl emanated from between her short, pale fingers as she clutched her writhing stomach—the hunger could only be ignored for so long.

Yet, a quick movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention.

A woman with fluffy hair quickly weaved between the tables, impatiently dragging a young boy towards the bar. The woman had only let go of her tight grip around the boy's forearm to speak animatedly to the barman. The boy immediately took this opportunity to gain space between himself and the rushed woman.

Wearing a scowl, the boy rubbed his forearm where the woman's firm grip had just been. The woman absent-mindedly reached back for the boy as she was seeming to wrap up her short conversation with the bald man behind the bar. The woman's talon-like fingers grasped at the air, which the boy desperately attempted to avoid.

The hungry girl left her seat in the back of the pub just as the boy leapt backwards, knocking into a man behind him causing his bowl of pea-soup to careen onto the floor. Her mouth watered in anticipation as she slowly walked towards the commotion, watching the sloppy mixture contact the floor. The man twisted around in his seat to give the young boy an earful, allowing the girl to swipe the soggy bread off the soup-soaked floor while everyone's attention was elsewhere.

* * *

No longer starving, Sabene wiped the sweat from her brow as she hid in the shade of a narrow alleyway between the cool stone bricks.

For her, it was entirely too hot in the summer of this foreign country. It was the heat of the day, which she was bound to suffer for as she was acclimatized to a northern latitude. She had come from a place that was practically blanketed in snow the majority of the year—a place that the sunlight would barely touch for months at a time.

At the end of the day, she was as sure-as-hell glad the sun _always_ went down in London. Thankful that, here, there was no such thing as the midnight sun.

It wasn't long before the sweat returned on her brow. She had left her northern solitude less than a week ago, her body was not accustomed to the weather.

There were a number of characteristics of this society that she was not accustomed to. Besides the weather, there were throngs of people. She couldn't recall ever seeing that many people gathered in one place. These people—mostly wizards and witches—couldn't fall into one category in her mind. A clash of extraordinarily different peoples, a mélange of cultures bustled around the alley, not all of them human.

She didn't know how to blend into the crowd. It was impossible because _no one_ seemed to be blending in.

Sabene cursed under her breath as her eyes followed another cloaked figure that passed by the mouth of the alleyway she was crouched in. She felt more comfortable in this particular section of the wizarding shops as there were far fewer people and the blasted sun struggled to penetrate through the narrow passageways leaving the area cooler and darker.

A gasp escaped her lips as a hooded figure suddenly turned down into the narrow alleyway. Thankfully for her, the man's progress was slow due to the alleyway being so narrow. He had to turn sideways in order to slip between the walls, allowing the girl time to vertically scale the surrounding stone. Her foot found a slab of stone that stuck out far enough from the rest for her tandem feet to rest comfortably on. The grey fur cloak that covered her happened to blend perfectly with color of the surrounding stone. The camouflage combined with the darkness of the alleyway allowed her presence to be unknown to the stranger passing beneath her.

Once the sun became fully hidden behind the buildings, she left the safety of her perch. She wandered back to the main line of shops, discovering that the crowds had dwindled significantly. She was able to navigate through the street without fear of anyone straying too close.

Her mouth watered as she passed by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and the cafés further along. The bread was only enough to keep the hunger pains at bay.

Two women in their early twenties were chatting and laughing at a table in front of one of the southern cafés after enjoying their dinner. They continued to converse while their half-eaten food remained untouched for at least five minutes.

She was thankful for her ancestry and her experience growing up in such a harsh environment—she had lost her pride long ago.

However, she had never gained any patience, especially on an empty stomach.

"E-excuse me, miss?" she cleared her throat, which had been raspy from the lack of use.

"Yes?" she responded, looking down at the young girl.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind…" her eyes snapped down to the half-slice of hamburger remaining on the woman's plate. The smells of the sliced onion, beef, and black pepper caused her to lose her train of thought, "I-I'm sorry to bother you, I just wondering if you would share the rest of that burger."

"Where are your parents?" The woman with a half-eaten salad asked.

"It's fine." The woman with the half-slice of burger eased her friend, "Sure, take it. I need to be watching what I eat anyways. It's not like we're in Hogwarts anymore." She winked at the girl.

"Thank you." She blew out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She gathered the leftovers gratefully.

* * *

A handful of days passed. Sabene started a pattern of napping during the heat of the day, often in the shade of narrow alleyways just outside of Diagon Alley. For food she resorted to either begging or snatching meager leftovers from people leaving the cafes.

Surrounded by the magical community in Diagon Alley, she was able to observe the children. All of the children she saw were ignorant and seemingly innocent to the world around them, many of them carelessly frolicked within the shops and alleyways. All her peers, apparently devoid of any magical skill.

Since an early age, she had been raised in an entirely different culture where magic was encouraged to be used by everyone – including children. She had been raised surrounded by a particular branch of magic.

 _Soul magic._

The name itself is self-explanatory; an ancient form of magic which uses the soul – it has been long forgotten by the majority of those who practice magic. The soul is an eternal part of a human being's spiritual identity, yet very little is known about the nature of the soul or how it is used in magic.

For good reason.

It is known that the soul cannot be recovered once it has been lost. A grave error could potentially lead to the practitioner an empty shell, their spiritual identity lost forever. The consequences would far outweigh the risk.

All magic has potential for misuse. The more obscure branches of magic–such as soul magic—often have governmentally-enforced restrictions placed on them. Sometimes governmental restrictions go far overboard with obscure branches of magic, labeling anything unknown or misunderstood as dark magic. Unintentionally, sometimes intentionally, encouraging wizards and witches who practice these magics to remove themselves from the control of governments by moving outside of the jurisdiction.

Often groups of witches and wizards sought out a new homes in sparsely populated areas. Practitioners of soul magic had an upper hand in creating these settlements. Due to the complexity of the magic, one spell that is not commonly used is the fidelius, _the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul._

The fidelius was guarding the settlement she was raised – Mustonen Settlement— named after the Mustonen family that founded the settlement.

The remote location of the village left her ignorant to the world around her, but it gave her the opportunity to train her body, magic, and soul into what she was today. She was stronger for it. From what she had seen so far, the British population seemed to be completely infatuated with _wands_. The entire concept of a wand seemed utterly ridiculous, she had no idea as to why they were so dependent on them.

Besides wands, the adult wizards and witches seemed dependent on _spells_.

Where she came from, once a child performed accidental magic, that child was encouraged to perform other bouts of "accidental" magic by any means necessary, including physically harming them. Using physical threats on the children was a faster method, as the child was more motivated to stop the negative treatment.

Extreme emotions and moods heightened the chances of accidental magic. Due to the expedited need for control, in her case, the accidental magic led to harsher treatment that in turn led to more suffering for Sabene and more instances of accidental magic in a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle.

After a while, the children would begin to exhibit mild degrees of control over their magic and would be able to use it with intent.

No spell was needed—nor silly wand waving.

Britain was completely backwards, as the entire population seemed to be completely infatuated with waving their glorified kindling and muttering the incantation.

Except… one.

* * *

 **The first several chapters will be relatively short, but the chapters should lengthen after the main characters are introduced. Next update is planned for the next blue** **moon... which is actually closer than you think.** **There'll be two full moons this month.**

 **Thank you for reading. Please review and leave your thoughts - positive or negative.**


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you, **hiccups-and-sighs** , for your review. Hopefully you continue to like the path the story takes.

* * *

Summary: One wizard's mistake leads to changes over a decade later in inter-house dynamics at Hogwarts. Starting in 1989, prior to Harry Potter's introduction to the wizarding world.

 **The West Side of Hogwarts to the Dungeons Down Below**

 **Chapter 2 - Euan Roddenberry.**

* * *

" _Sometimes the worst place you can be is in your own head."_

It was the quote that Euan Roddenberry often heard his mother say to him… when she was sober…when she was around.

She first explained the quote to him when he was six, although he had heard her say it many times before that, but never really understood.

" _Keep yourself busy, entertained, stimulated and occupied."_ She would say to Euan, _"Be busy so you don't have time to think about your problems, your life, your ..."_

Euan was ten-years-old, he shouldn't have _that_ many problems. His biggest problem at the moment was that two of his colored stickers on his Rubix cube were starting to peel off. Compared to the problems of the adults around him, Euan felt that his problems were mild irritations in comparison. For example, unlike his mother, he had a good roof over his head thanks to his grandparents.

His grandparents, mostly his grandmother, were the ones who raised him in their home in West Brompton. He liked to think he made caring for him an easy task as possible, as his grandma had _plenty_ of problems—most of them surrounding her family, just not Euan. Euan's mother had first dropped him off at his grandparents when he was three. He had heard his grandma tell his grandpa that his mom couldn't stay sober to care properly for Euan. Well, his mom couldn't stay sober for the last seven years, so the majority of his life he spent with his grandparents.

It was better this way for everyone.

He could help his grandma out… she sure needed it.

His grandma must have followed his mother's advice on staying busy… or perhaps it was the other way around.

Nonetheless, his grandma was constantly doing something, often staying busy due to Euan's grandpa— who was always getting himself into trouble. The most significant incident was when Euan was eight. His grandma had gone outside for five minutes to water the roses while his grandpa put a pizza slice wrapped in aluminum foil in the microwave oven.

He nearly burnt the house down—if it hadn't been for Euan's abilities, the family would have been homeless for sure.

When loud popping noises began to come from the microwave, Euan had been sitting with a book at the dining room table. He ran into the kitchen to see his grandpa standing in front of it, like a deer in the headlights. Euan felt immediately panicked when he saw the flames ejecting from the kitchen appliance.

Before his eyes and his grandfather's, the both the flames and the microwave were gone. The only evidence of the incident were the scorched markings on the tile of the countertop.

His grandfather didn't say anything, but went back to the refrigerator for a different snack—the pizza already forgotten. This was normal for him, Euan's grandpa was extremely forgetful. It was the Alzheimer's.

"What's that smell?!" His grandmother shrieked as she walked into the kitchen. "Is something burning!?"

* * *

West Brompton wasn't that far from the Westminster Bridge.

Which is where Euan stood with his family—sans his mother.

His grandfather stood near the pedestrian railing of the bridge looking out into the distance of the River Thames. Near his grandma, his aunt and her husband were fussing with their newborn daughter from within her stroller. The infant's cries were drowned out by the noise of the busy street they were standing on.

It was Easter Sunday, which meant Euan's family had just left the Easter service at church. Euan was dressed in his nicest suit and his hair had been combed into submission repeatedly prior to leaving for the service.

Euan stood next to his grandfather, seeing that he was the only one keeping an eye on him with his family having their hands full with the upset infant.

"It's a glorious sight," His grandfather spoke roughly regarding the city around them, "Eh, boy?"

Surprised to hear his grandfather speak, Euan responded simply, "Yes."

"Hmmf." He grunted gruffly before speaking again, "It sure has changed."

It had been the most he had heard his grandfather say in quite a while, he wanted to continue the conversation as long as possible.

"How so, papa?" He looked up at his grandfather's towering form.

His grandpa didn't answer back and Euan didn't really expect him to.

"Hurry along, you two." He heard his grandma calling for them as the rest of his family started to walk towards the clock tower.

"Grandpa, it's time to go."

Euan grabbed for his grandfather's weathered, worn hand and guided him towards West. There was no resistance from the older man as he let his descendant guide him towards the stairs descending to the Westminster tube station.

Euan paused at the top of the stairs.

A gentle breeze from the South ruffled his combed hair, whispering past his ears.

Euan would occasionally get these… feelings located in the pit of his stomach—which had been slowly growing in frequency since before he could remember. It seemed this particular feeling, was tugging him towards Soho, an area north of Westminster. The best he could describe it was like a _hunger_. How hunger guides one towards food. This feeling was guiding him somewhere in the city _._

He itched to go north.

"Come on, you guys." His aunt's husband had retraced the family's steps to return up the stairs.

Euan obediently followed with his grandfather in tow.

Once seated on the underground train, Euan turned to his grandmother.

"Grandma." Euan spoke to get her attention, she looked down at him sitting beside her. She began to fuss with his windswept hair, "Can we come back here?"

"What?" She asked, even though she had heard him clearly—befuddled by the odd request.

"I just think it would be nice to take a look around at the city." Euan attempted to persuade his grandmother.

"Oh, alright." She smiled as she coaxed a stray hair into place on his head.

Euan smiled, imagining the tentative trip back. He would finally be able to investigate the source of this feeling… _his hunger_.

* * *

Months had passed since Easter Sunday, his hunger—the term he used to describe the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach— started to intensify at a faster rate. Festering into something he could no longer ignore. It couldn't have worsened at a more inopportune time.

His grandfather had started to act more withdrawn and weak, so his grandmother had taken him to the hospital. The doctors said he had to stay for a couple days because of a blood infection. Euan still needed to go to school each day, so his aunt was staying with them, she was off work anyway due to his one-month-old cousin's birth.

He hadn't seen his grandma in two days, as she was staying at the hospital.

It was Friday and Euan made it back to his grandparent's house. Anticipation fluttered within his throat as his aunt cooked dinner while his cousin was asleep.

"Aunt Mary?" Euan spoke tentatively, as his aunt stirred her concoction on the stove.

"Hmm?" She responded.

"Could we go for a walk, east of Kensington?" Euan asked, hopeful. He was so focused on his aunt's response that his intention unknowingly displayed throughout his body language—his hands clasped together, fingers interlaced in front of him.

"I was thinking we would go visit grandpa tomorrow." His aunt replied.

"How about after?" Euan's heart skipped at her negative response.

Euan could see the wheels turning in his aunt's head, "I don't…"

"It'll be m'birthday present." He stumbled over his words eagerly, interrupting her.

She laughed at this, shaking her head, but Euan could see she was cracking. "Fine!" She huffed playfully. "But we will find you a birthday present while we are out." She said before mumbling, "Going for a walk isn't a real present."

"Thank you!" He shouted excitedly.

"Shhh!" She hushed as her eyes darted over to the car seat where her first-born was still sleeping.

"Sorry." He whispered timidly.

* * *

That Saturday afternoon, the pair stood on the sidewalk of Charing Cross Road staring at the door between a bookshop and a record store. Aunt Mary was clutching onto the navy stroller.

Euan had barely obtained three hours of restless sleep that night due to the anticipation. Finally, Euan knew he was in the right place.

"I think it's closed." His aunt said.

Not a second later, a man dressed in bizarre clothing came out of the door. He didn't give them a second glance as he strode past.

"Let's go inside."

"But-"

His aunt started to say something, but Euan—atypical for his usually respectful demeanor—had ignored her and was already darting for the door.

His aunt followed him inside, it was poorly lit and shabby, with a bar and a number of tables in the shadows of the corners.

"Euan!" she hissed, following the boy as quickly as one can with a stroller.

Euan was already out the back door of the pub, while his aunt struggled to follow him through the cramped space. She apologized to the strangely dressed individuals drinking and eating as she maneuvered her stroller. She finally emerged through the door Ewan had just exited, the stroller directly behind her.

Euan stood motionless, staring at the brick wall in front of him.

She stood at the doorway, preparing to shout at him for leaving her behind, unaware of the anguish currently warring within his head.

The anticipation had been building for months with subsequent weeks of planning, to bring him to this moment. He was so close—only for it to hit a wall—literally a brick one.

He was surrounded by brick on all sides, unable to go forwards, only backwards. Euan unleashed his pent up frustration, throwing his arms towards the bricks in front of him. A directed blast of magic left his body and collided with the brick wall.

 ** _BOOM_**!

A cloud of dust enveloped Euan and Aunt Mary causing the latter to cough and sputter at the contaminated air. The former was lying unconscious– face down with a bloody, broken nose.

The various witches and wizards shopping within the alley stood uselessly, mouths agape. A thick cloud of dust obscured the scene, yet it also provided cover for a small girl, who was sneaking towards the prone form of Euan. The girl removed an oversized necklace from her dainty form and placed it around the unconscious boy's neck before sulking off back into the gathering crowd. No one noticed the girl slip back amongst them, as they attempted to see through the dust.

Most of the onlookers remained an adequate distance from the mouth of the alley, eyes bulging at what remained of the brick wall that separated the alley from The Leaky Cauldron. The thick cloud of dust began to dissipate and two middle-aged wizards cautiously emerged from the crowd. Both men had drawn their wands while they slowly stepped over the crumbled bits of brick.

All of these events happened in less than fifteen seconds after the blast, which was the time it took Mary to recover from the shock of the unexpected blast and quickly check on her infant son. Once she was assured that no harm had come to him, she turned back in order to squint through the dust.

Her ears ringing, her hands shaking, and her heart pounding in her chest—all from the adrenaline flooding her system. As the dust settled, she was able to make out the two men crouched over another. Her heart leapt in her throat.

 _Euan!_

"Is he alright!?" she shouted as she scrambled towards Euan, who lay supine on the ground.

"Yeah, he's just unconscious." One man replied in a gruff voice as he waved his wand over Euan's bloodied face.

"Wh-what happened?" Mary stammered as she gripped the limp hand of her unconscious nephew.

"Just one serious case of accidental magic." The other man spoke, astonished that an underage boy could have achieved a _wandless_ blasting curse.

"I'd say." The gruff man agreed with his companion.

"Wh-what?" Mary stuttered, confused.

The men stopped waving their wands over Euan to scrutinize the woman crouched beside them—her clothes and her bewilderment of the situation. It didn't take long for them to come to the conclusion that she was a muggle.

"Are you related to the boy?" The gruff man asked Mary.

"I'm his aunt." She replied.

"What's his name?" The other man questioned her.

"Euan." It was the last thing she said before the gruff man directed his wand between her eyes. She became unconscious faster than a Cleansweep 6.

"Call the A.M.R.S." The other man suggested as he pointed his wand at Euan, " _Rennervate._ "

The boy's eyes fluttered open as he awoke.

"Euan?" The man asked as the boy's crystal-blue irises became visible.

"What happened?" He groaned.

"Y'fell flat on your face." The gruff man spoke as he expertly waved his wand in an intricate fashion.

A pair of crystal-blue eyes scrutinized the two oddly dressed men couching over him. The boy—still on his back—propped himself up on his elbows to look around. He surveyed the remnants of the brick wall, as well as the throngs of curious onlookers on the other side. His eyes popped as he noticed his unconscious aunt beside him.

"Is she alright?" He asked, alarmed.

"Yes," the gruff man replied with a huff.

Before the gruff man had the chance to elaborate, his companion asked, "What were you doing here with her?"

"I was looking…" Euan pondered over an appropriate response, his mind was sluggish as a result from the blow just minutes ago. "…for something."

"Yeah, well don't bring unknowing muggles here, boy." The gruff man patronized, "I know she's your aunt n'all, but sometimes blood isn't thicker than water and family will cross you quicker than strangers."

"What's he supposed to do, Caradoc," the other man argued, "Kids can't just wonder around muggle London by themselves, he'd just get picked up by the muggle authorities."

Caradoc grunted in response.

"The obliviators are coming." The other man told Euan.

Euan was beyond confused. _What were these men talking about?_

Caradoc must have noticed the baffled expression on the boy's face, "Ah shit, Arnie" he exclaimed, "This boy's got no idea."

Arnie assessed the young boy's facial expression. _Caradoc was right_. "How in Merlin's name—" Arnie began to say, but was interrupted as a group of men from the A.M.R.S. arrived at the scene.

"What's the situation?" The leader of the obiviator squad asked Caradoc. Caradoc and Arnie began to explain, but a woman in a long cloak offered her hand to Euan, effectively obstructing his view. Euan accepted her hand allowing the woman to pull him to his feet.

Once he was situated on his feet, Euan noticed that Aunt Mary was awake. She was hysterically speaking with two adults, both of whom were dressed in the same outfit as the witch that helped him to his feet.

"We got here through the tube." His aunt spoke exasperatedly to the two adults.

" _Legilimens_."

"Let me help you with that nose." Her musical voice stated as she pointed her wand towards the center of his face.

" _Episky_."

That's when several things happened at once…

A loud crunch came from Euan's nose, his eyes watered from the pain that followed. Euan's finger's gently probed his nose as tears gathered in his eyes. Through the tears, Euan could see the bricks and dust magically reforming and re-erecting themselves back into the wall.

"The boy is definitely not a muggle." Euan heard Caradoc say to the lead obliviator, "My diagnostic spells were as clear as day."

"Must be a muggleborn." The witch who fixed his nose stated.

 _A what?_

"Someone floo the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts," the lead obliviator ordered, "See if he is in the book of names."

The alleyway had been repaired to its original state. Euan stood flabbergasted at the events happening around him. What could he do? He didn't even know what was going on?

Perhaps he was still unconscious.

Perhaps this was all in his head.

A warm hand enveloped Euan's. He glanced up at the woman holding his hand, who was smiling down at him.

"Hang on." She grinned.

Everything went black in an instant. He felt a squeezing pressure throughout his entire body making it impossible to breathe. His feet suddenly met solid ground– his mind registered that he never realized that his feet had even left the ground in the first place.

Euan stumbled—he immediately recognized the living space of his grandparents' home in West Brompton. The woman from the alley let go of his hand once Euan caught his bearings. Euan recognized two others—a man and a woman from the alleyway. The woman was situating the stroller near the couch, while the man guided his aunt—who was looking rather green—onto the couch.

 _How…?_

" _Obliviate."_ a man stated, standing before his aunt while pointing his wand at her forehead.

Euan's brain was overwhelmed. He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start.

"How about we sit down." Someone suggested as he was guided towards the comfortable couch next to his aunt, who had an absent look on her face.

 _Crack!_

Euan nearly jumped from his skin as two people—a man and an elderly woman—appeared out of thin air in front of the television.

Euan's eyes were wide open, but he kept his mouth firmly closed shut—despite the thousands of questions forming in his mind.

 _Better to just let this play out_ , he thought. _I must have hit my head. This isn't actually happening. It's impossible._

After brief greetings, the majority of the adults disappeared with a loud crack. Only two of the adults remained, the elderly woman and the woman who fixed his nose.

"Mr. Roddenberry." The elderly woman spoke firmly with an accent, "My name is Professor McGonagall. I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

 _Witchcraft? ... Wizardry? ... What…like magic?_

"He hasn't said much." The witch who fixed his nose informed the Professor.

"I see." Professor McGonagall stated before pursing her lips, "You aren't in any trouble, Mr. Roddenberry. That, I assure you. These things happen and no one was injured in Diagon Alley."

…

…

"Do you understand?" Professor McGonagall asked once she realized he wasn't going to say anything.

"I do." Euan lied simply.

"Where are your parents?" McGonagall asked.

"I don't know." Euan replied truthfully.

"Will they be back soon?" the Professor frowned.

"No. Not likely." Euan clenched his fists, it was a bit of sore topic for him. "I live with my grandparents."

 _This was all rather odd. Why was his brain playing out this scenario? Seemed a bit harsh,_ he thought irately.

"When will they return?" she asked.

Euan took a deep breath in attempt to quell his growing frustration at his own hallucination.

"I don't know that either. My grandfather is in the hospital." He replied.

"Is your aunt caring for you in the meantime?" Professor McGonagall questioned.

"Yes."

…

…

The Deputy Headmistress seemed to take a moment to assess the situation. Euan realized his brief answers weren't helping this bizarre situation, but he was at a disadvantage within his own made-up situation. His brief answers seemed to be the only control he had.

"Mr. Roddenberry," the professor began, "Has anything ever happened around you that you couldn't explain?"

…

"Of course." He blurted out, "Everything that has bloody happened within the past hour."

The younger woman chuckled while Aunt Mary stared off into the distance and Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in annoyance.

"Before _today_ , Mr. Roddenberry." McGonagall spoke sternly.

 _Yes, of course. There was odd stuff happening around him all the time, since before he could remember._

"Well, sure." He spoke hesitantly.

"These things happen because you are a wizard, Mr. Roddenberry." The professor explained.

 _So it is like magic._

… and it finally dawned on him.

"Is this real?" He asked critically.

"What do you mean, Mr. Roddenberry?" the professor asked.

"I mean, is this really happening?" He clarified.

"Well, yes." McGonagall frowned with a look of concern on her face, "Why wouldn't it be, Mr. Roddenberry?" She asked rhetorically, "Magic is _real_. You've seen it with your own two eyes!"

 _Wasn't it all in my head?_

McGonagall could sense his confusion, she turned to the younger witch beside her, "Didn't Martha apparate you and your family here?"

The young witch, Martha, nodded in response.

Euan didn't know what apparate meant, but he saw a lot of weird stuff happening around him today.

"I can do all of this stuff?" He questioned.

"Not yet, of course." McGonagall huffed, "You have to go to school first."

She took a slip of paper out of a pocket in her robes and offered it to Euan. He noticed that it was a letter and it was addressed to him. He opened the letter and pulled out the paper.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Roddenberry,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

The second page was indeed a list of books and materials—bizarre books and materials.

"Where can I even buy these things from?" he asked, perplexed.

Martha laughed, "Where we just came from—Diagon Alley—they'll have everything you need there."

"Over the summer, I will take you to get your supplies." McGonagall replied, ignoring the witch next to her. "I will let you know when I solidify the date, but now, I must go." She nodded her head towards the young boy, "Good-bye, Mr. Roddenberry. Martha."

"Good-bye, professor." Martha smiled brightly at the stern witch before turning back to Euan. "Now, your aunt won't remember anything that happened—"

With a _crack_ , the professor vanished.

"It's too dangerous."

"How do I do that?" Euan asked Martha as he stared where Professor McGonagall disappeared.

"Oh, you'll learn to apparate in your sixth year at Hogwarts." Martha replied.

"Apparate?"

"Um, yeah." Martha frowned slightly, "It's the most convenient way to travel from one place to another."

"That how we got here, right?" He asked, curious.

"Yeah." Martha affirmed.

 _It was an unpleasant way to travel._

* * *

Aunt Mary snapped out of her stupor immediately after Martha apparated out of the house. Euan felt guilty throughout the rest of the afternoon as his aunt bustled around the kitchen.

"Where did the time go?!" she growled as she prepared dinner and Euan sat at the table pretending to read, yet his mind was miles away.

Not much later she asked, "Why are your clothes so dirty, Euan?"

Euan didn't have an appropriate response, as he wasn't the type to play outside, he much preferred reading.

"Go wash up for dinner!" she scolded him, "And change out of those clothes!"

Euan shut the bathroom door behind him, a change of clothes in hand. He absentmindedly placed the clean clothes on the counter top before pulling off his shirt and depositing the dirty cloth onto the floor. He grabbed the bar of soap just as he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He noticed something that hadn't been there before.

A small milky-white crystal hung from a necklace, intricately encased by a band of copper-colored metal. He didn't know why he hadn't realized it before, as it felt heavy around his neck and warm against the skin of his chest. He reached up to touch it, but once his palm came into contact with the object he cried out in pain and released the crystal.

On the center of his palm, the skin was badly burnt and the pain seemed to radiate up his entire arm into his chest.

He turned the cold tap on with his un-burnt right hand, thankfully his dominant hand, which had held the soap not a minute ago. The only reason why he hadn't burnt it instead of his left. He gritted his teeth as the cold water ran over the wound.

And like that the pain was gone.

* * *

The next full moon is March 1st, that's the plan. Fingers crossed.

I am writing this story as I go, so I am open to suggestions. Please give feedback.


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